Lost and Found
by Hisgirlfelicity
Summary: "when two people are right, they will find each other, no matter the circumstances" Compilation of Olicity Drabbles (Feel free to shoot me a request hisgirlfelicity on Tumblr)
1. Strut

Oliver tapped his foot impatiently against the glittery tile, his lip curved up in disgust at the glitzy powder from hell that, now, completely covered the surface of his favorite _leather_ Armani dress shoes.

How the _fuck_ did he let Thea convince him to come to another one of these stupid fashion shows?

He grimaced at the memory of the last one, sitting with his chin In his hands, elbows propped against his knees bobbing up and down in exasperation, the picture of sheer boredom.

Thea, on the other hand, had sat next to him thoroughly enthralled by the poor excuse of a show, squealing excitedly at every gown that came down the ramp-platform thingy, or whatever Thea kept telling him it was called. At the way her face lit up you would think there was nothing more exciting than watching a bunch of lifeless looking models walk up and down… He could think of about a thousand.

It's not that he doesn't appreciate fashion, he does. He's pretty sure his—well, everything is designer, he just doesn't make it a hobby to sit through hour long "shows" that bore him to tears.

"Ollie, if you're going for an 'I'd rather watch paint dry' look, its working" Thea gave him a look that told him she didn't appreciate his sulking

"You know I was going more for the 'I'd rather shit in my hands and clap' kind of look" he gave her a sarcastic smile and she rolled her eyes

"Whatever Ollie, you know you can't say no to your favorite little sister"

she gave him an angelic smile and batted her eyelashes. A smile tugged at the seam of his lips. she was right, when she said jump he asked how high.

_"Only _sister_" _

She shrugged making herself comfortable, leading him to believe that it would be a while before they got out of there, he groaned

"which makes me your favorite by default, you can sulk all you want but, if those shoes are any indication, you're a total fashonista" his eyebrows knit together at the unfamiliar word

"what the hell is a fasho-" a loud beat that he recognized hearing at verdant started blaring through the room, cutting off the rest of his question. The lights dimmed around them, making the brightly lit platform the main focus. Thea clapped excitedly as the first model walked out wearing a feathered dress that he was sure would never be worn in public- at least not without him laughing.

He sighed and prepared himself for the hour of monotony.

When he was sure he would fall asleep, he saw her.

he watched awestruck as she walked, no, _strutted_, down the platform. Her hips swayed to the beat and under the bright lights she was unquestionably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her blonde hair fell loosely around her shoulders, bouncing with each stomp of her high-heeled clad feet. Her legs, which looked to be a mile long, walked with confidence. By the time she reached the end of her walk to look over her shoulder flirtatiously, he was nearly drooling.

Thea gave him a sideways glance, she smirked at his evident admiration for the stunning blonde.

By the time he snapped out of the daze the gorgeous model had cast on him, the show had ended, the lights had been flipped back on and the room was nearly empty. He straightened in his chair and cleared his throat In embarrassment.

Thea stared at him, a broad smile on her lips

"C'mon, I'll introduce you" she shot up from her chair and pulled him out of his own

"Total fashionista" she muttered as she dragged him towards a back room

"wait what? to who?" he asked, his thoughts still with the radiant blue-eyed model

"to Felicity Smoak" he could hear the smile in her voice

"You'll love her"

She wasn't wrong.


	2. Breeched Walls

Hi guys !unfortunately for my sanity and for anyone that has been reading Fallen For Your Eyes (But They Don't Know Me Yet), I'm having massive writers block at them moment so this is me attempting to write my way out of it. This was actually a prompt from my tumblr, I love this movie so so so much  
Hope you enjoy it

**Breeched Walls**

He wasn't a prince.

At least not in spirit.

No, in spirit he was a warrior, his hands twitched for a bow, his body for the brutal training that was unacceptable for a prince's venerated body. The bruises and marks that would distinguish an able warrior, to his mother, were an offense to his sanctity as the prince of the empire.

But that never really seemed to stop him.

"What are you doing here, your highness?" John Diggle's grunted words came from a dark crossing where Oliver could see he was nursing a wounded arm, his dark uniform deepened by the blood surging from the slash on his arm.

"Well, Diggle, it seems that I will be saving your life today"

his eyes roamed the darkened tower of watch that guarded their target, surely the warriors of the holy city were well trained to have impaired his best soldier.

"Those walls are impossible to breach, your majesty" his words were muffled as he bit down hard in pain, his body caving forward at his injury.

Royal eyes continued to analyze the invasion that had been set forth by his father after his advisor's spies discovered weapons in the city.  
His eyes came to a halt when he spotted the break in the formation of the army.

"you really need to find a new definition of impossible, Diggle" he smirked at the annoyed look on the hardened soldier's face. Pulling an arrow from his bundle he scrutinized its intended path into the chest of an opposing soldier before he let it fly form his extended bow. The soft grunt of a fallen enemy indicated success.

"One down, one hundred to go" he mumbled as he tore a piece of the tunic under his armor to tie it around the gash on his soldier's arm  
The two men nodded in acknowledgment and in an unspoken reassurance.

* * *

"Your idea of saving really needs some re-defining, your highness"

"Do not call me that, Diggle" he managed to mutter before their captors gave him a swift blow to the stomach, shouting at him in a language he did not understand

"Of corse, my prince"

* * *

"It reeks of death and shit in here" the prince's nose contorted in distress- seeking air that didn't make him want to gag

"It is a dungeon after all, your highness" He narrowed his eyes at the agile solider currently chained next to him not appreciating the obvious sarcasm coloring his voice. He let the title slide for his thoughts were otherwise engaged

"You know, it is said that the Princess of the Holy city is a beauty without equal"

an unexpected snort came from beside him, even in the scarcely lit prison, only illuminated by sparse torches on the brick walls, could he practically see Diggle rolling his eyes

"Please do not tell me that is why you crashed my mission-"

"Seemed pretty crashed before I got there" he murmured under his breath feeling Diggle's glare immediately. Evidently choosing to ignore the young prince's retort, he continued

"I am sure your other conquests at home keep you busy enough, my prince"

"Just trying to look on the bright side here, Diggle"

The answering humph was not very optimistic

"It is said, her brain, too, has never been bested"

Distant footsteps and the rattling of the chain that confined the heavy door to the dungeon told them they were about to find out.

* * *

The temple was magnificently built, gold and tapestries everywhere he looked- The room they were being pushed into was fogged over, smelling strongly of incense.

He spotted her then, crouched over on her knees before a shrine, her white robe pooled around where she rested, head bowed in respect.

The guard called out again in the native tongue, informing her of their presence

She turned, her face mostly confined behind the embroidered edge of her hood, the golden hair resting on her shoulder matching perfectly with the golden accents that adorned the temple

"Your city is really quite beautiful" he remarked, grinning to assure the compliment was understood by the foreign princess "There had been stories of its splendor, but in person- it's quite breathtaking, really-"

"Why thank you, you should have seen it before your horde of Foul-smelling illiterates descended upon it" she spoke clearly, with conviction- in a perfect english accent

Diggle did his best to stifle his snicker from beside the gaping prince.

She chose that moment to slowly remove the hood from her head, revealing the celestial image of her clear blue eyes. There were beads woven into her strands of sun yellow hair that reached down to her back, her eyes were lined with black kohl that made them perfectly striking.

Her skin was lightly freckled from the persian sun- golden in a way that made her look as Holy as the city she ruled.

"Now why, if I may ask, Did your armies attempt, albeit unsuccessfully, to breech my walls?"


	3. Last Night

Hooker Au, sort of like _the Wedding Date_ (great movie) written first on Tumblr, thinking of posting all my drabbles here if thats OK with you all? please excuse any mistakes

* * *

-Last Night-

The room was completely dark, his eyes fixed restlessly on the ceiling, his tired gaze tracing over the cracks in the eggshell paint. He let himself peek over at the vacant spot beside him, the bedding was smooth, unslept on and he found himself missing the heat that radiated off her, the way she, despite the barrier of pillows she placed between them, would gravitate towards his side, legs tangling with his in a web of warmth, smooth blonde hair tickling his chest as she settled her cheek against his shoulder.

The clench of his jaw tightened at the sudden realization that he couldn't even get a minute of sleep without the blonde IT whizz quietly snoring (and occasionally drooling) beside him and what the _fuck_ was he doing? She was just another woman, beautiful of course, so much so that he'd started to wonder why she even needed to pay someone to date her, those big bright eyes and soft smile would be enough to drive a hot blooded male insane.

Beautiful or otherwise, he'd escorted plenty of women before and actually slept better when they were long gone, like a baby, he would say, his money placed neatly on the nightstand, his own little inside joke.

So what in hell was happening? She told him she would be at her friends bachelor party, so what if she met some guy at the bar and decided to go home with him? she'd told Oliver loud and clear the she wouldn't be needing any of his other services, "Morally repugnant" were her exact words, if his memory serves him. So what if she was out there getting laid by some stranger? That was beside his job and his business, he was here to convince her family that they were a happy, loving couple, it was his brain's stupid fault if he'd been a little too convincing and had ended up falling for it himself.

He grabbed a pillow from the stack that would usually form the wall between them on her small twin sized mattress and brought it right over his face, working as a blindfold and forcing his eyes to close.

It wasn't long before he was woken by a soft hand searching for his, her fingers tracing over the soft contours of his forearm, whispering over his knuckles. His eyes drifted open, immediately meeting with a set of big blue eyes that glowed, even in the shadows of her childhood room.

"Felicity what-"

She shook her head and there was something almost predatory about the smile that stretched over her lips.

He watched helplessly as the fingers that had been tracing over his hand began ghosting over her collarbone, dangerously close to where the tie of her blouse rested undisturbed, the silky material wound tightly into a bow.

He watched, mesmerized as the tie came easily undone, the item of clothing falling soundlessly and unceremoniously onto the carpet. Her skirt followed soon after, the material that had hugged her hips so perfectly now a shapeless puddle on the floor.

He realized at that moment that he'd formed some sort of picture in his head of what she would look like under those form fitting dresses she usually favored. At that exact same moment he also realized how lacking his imagination had been. His eyes took all they could get in the lightless room, greedily raking over the little lace panties that hugged her hips snugly, the matching bra that molded to the soft curve of her breasts, the wild mass of curls that had been freed from her usual ponytail falling loosely over her shoulders.

He watched her hand tease over the clasp of her bra and before he knew exactly what he was doing, he was in her space, feeling her breath, tingling with the scent of wine and something stronger, washing over his face in soft, easy puffs. At the same time he let his hands find her hips he wondered where _his_ Felicity was, mouth babbling 100 miles per hour, cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the sexual innuendos he'd jokingly told her he wouldn't charge her for, big blue eyes seeing right through his hooker facade. He wondered if she was buried in deep within _this_ Felicity that was currently placing open mouthed kisses on his jaw, wondered if she'd wanted this as much as him since the first time they'd met on the plane with her childhood home in Vegas as the destination.

When the woman that looked so much like Felicity finally pushed him back onto the bed, working her way slowly up his body with a seductive look in her eyes, he decided to leave the thinking for the morning and just feel. Feel the way her lips moved maddeningly slow under his, how the legs he'd been missing settled on either side of his hips, how carefully, without haste she pulled his boxers out of the way, how wet her mouth felt on the planes of his chest.

She didn't say a word, her soft sighs and muffled moans were the only sounds that filled his ears, that intoxicated his senses and pushed out any thoughts of what this might mean for him, for them. He just let her move slowly from over top him, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, her eyes latched onto his, refusing to look away, before rolling them over, pinning her with his strong arms, ravaging her without remorse, without a drop of reason. He let her drift off after, choking down his questions, letting her snuggle up close, finally feeling at peace with her body warm beside his.

* * *

His heart was beating fast as he approached their room the next morning, breakfast tray in hand, going over all the things he wanted to tell her, I've never met someone like you, last night was amazing, I Lov-

the door swung open then, breaking his concentration and revealing the soft woman that had been in his dreams and in his bed the night before.

"Hey" she said, a smile on her lips but her hand on her head, rubbing soothing circles over her temples.

"Hey" he answered back, opening his mouth to say something else, only to close it when she grabbed his hand and sat him on the bed, worried eyes searching his face.

"Hey" she murmured again "what happened last night?" she asked, eyeing his underwear that she obviously didn't recall flinging across the room in the heat of the moment, teeth worrying at the bottom of her lip, so differently than they had the night before.

His face fell for a second as he processed the fact that she didn't remember, that the passion with which they had loved each other had been lost to her, only fleeting in her memories before his smile dimmed back into his practiced business smirk, walls built securely back over his heart.

"Nothing"

"Nothing?" she asked suspiciously "I mean I was pretty drunk so I'm kind of in the dark here, I was hoping you could tell me why I woke up and found our clothes thrown around the room-"

"Nothing happened" he said, a little louder, the words sounding painfully strained "you just got too lazy to find pajamas after undressing" he shrugged, adding with a harsher tone "and it's not really in my job description to babysit you when you get hammered"

"right" she muttered, cheeks reddening at the thought of him seeing her undressed, oblivious to the fact that he'd done more than see her undressed

"I brought you breakfast" he said under his breath, already halfway to the door, needing to be anywhere but there.

"thanks" she said quietly, the syllable drowned out by the emptiness of the room.

* * *

When he reentered the room he could hear the spray of the shower and her soft humming from behind the bathroom door. He was looking for his socks when he saw the envelope, hundreds of bills spilling over the folded edges of the package.

He strode over to the bathroom and swung the door open, his hand reaching to pull the shower curtain away in an angry swipe. She shrieked, her arms flying to cover her breasts.

"Oliver, wha-"

"Is this for last night" he said accusingly, waving the bills in her face, only half registering the fact that she was so very naked- and wet.

"W-What?" she stuttered, the spray still pounding water over her head

"I thought I _told you_ Felicity-" he started, his voice dripping with sarcasm, his hooker smile plastered almost painfully on his face "that I would tell you beforehand if I was going to charge you for anything"

"B-but you said nothing happened! I-I just didn't want you to think I expected anything for free- or anything at all!" she explained quickly, closing her eyes in embarrassment at what she was implying

"You're 250 short, by the way" he said, eyes narrowed, before turning on his heel to stride out of the room but not before flinging the wad of cash onto the bed in rage, in hurt.

"Wait! Oliver don't go! I didn't mean it like that" she was out of the shower, hot on his heel, her voice hoarse with emotion, a towel bunched under her arms, barely covering her dripping body. He turned around slowly, his features masterfully masked

"Felicity" he said, taking a step in her direction "you're hardly the first" it sounded bitter and strained but she nodded, eyes searching his. He turned away before those eyes could decipher the hurt, the lie in his eyes, because she was the first, the first and only client he'd ever stupidly fallen in love with.


	4. Definitely Not Protocol

Special Agents AU

* * *

:Definitely_ Not_ Protocol:

She watched her target carefully from behind the rim of her wine glass, following his path through the club and sizing up his security while remaining unnoticed, undercover as another tipsy party girl. The glittered hem of her dress had been itching on her thighs the entire night and her shoes, however fabulous, were probably leaving bloodstains at how much they were killing her feet. The club was dark, smokey, and reeked of alcohol, but she forced her eyes to stay trained on the target, fixing on where he settled himself in the VIP section of the club.

She watched him try to pick up a redhead at the bar, then a brunette and then another redhead, thinking that it was too bad she wasn't his type. She almost snorted under her breath as she twirled a golden curl on her finger, musing on her other assets that men found awfully hard to ignore, some that included a taser and a mean right hook, oh and her favorite had to be her FBI badge, that really seemed to turn sleezy criminals on for some reason.

She watched as he leaned over the counter, flashing his prospective conquest a charming smile that was mildly creepy at best. She wrinkled her nose in distaste, gosh the man really could not take No for an answer, she had a feeling she would enjoy bringing this one in.

She pushed a button on the com that was inconspicuously placed in her ear, informing Diggle of the information she had gathered

"Only three goons" she whispered, mouth barely moving with her words

"The guys got no game" he laughed, telling her to get out of there before she drew any attention to herself

"He's nothing if not persistent" she snickered, signing off the com to turn towards the club's exit and Digg's van that was waiting for her in an alley three blocks away.

It was the glint of his sunglasses that got her attention in the end, she knew there was only one person ridiculous enough to wear dark glasses in a basically lightless club. She studied him while he entertained two blondes in a small lounge in a dark corner of the club. His hair was cropped short, he wore that grey suit that she liked and even behind those sunglasses, she could feel his eyes on her too.

She strode over just as he was waving the bimbos away, arms crossed over her chest, looking down onto where he was seated, his arms placed smugly behind his head.

"Took you exactly 50 minutes, you're getting sloppy Smoak" his voice was deep, rich with amusement, his tongue clicking as if chastising a child.

"What are you doing here, Queen?"

"That's classified" he said, only because he knew it annoyed her, grinning as he slid the glasses down the bridge of his nose, revealing his piercing blue eyes. He smirked, eyes openly raking over her tight dress in the way that only his could, that made a shiver run through her spine.

"Well, to be honest, I couldn't care less. You tell the CIA, and Tommy" she called out, loud enough for the com in his ear to pick up "to stay away from this case, the FBI has been on this guy for months, we're not going to let some Idiots from the CIA get in the way"

"Ouch" he said, sounding a lot more smug than hurt. He placed the glasses back in their spot and reached into his suit pocket to pull something out. She narrowed her eyes when she saw the emblem on the envelope, it was an invitation to the gala where they would finally pin the sleezeball. She took a deep breath and smiled, the CIA was more deeply involved than she'd anticipated. She maneuvered herself onto the uncomfortable couch, close enough to smell the scent of his signature cologne.

"Now thats more like it" he hummed, bringing an arm to encircle her waist

"Is there anyway I can convince you to skip that gala tomorrow?" she asked, breathing the words into his ear in the way she knew gave him goosebumps

"Hmmm, and miss you in one of your evening numbers? hardly" he said, his breath hot on her cheek. His fingers come up to trail over her cheekbone making her shudder into his touch. The phone in her bag vibrated just as she was melting into the caress of his smooth fingertips, causing her to snap out of her daze, all the reasons why she'd been avoiding Special agent Oliver Queen crashing over her in a breathtaking swoosh. She stood abruptly, breathless from the contact, her cheek hot where his fingers had been.

"Stay away from Blood, or the FBI will make you wish you did" her voice shook more than she would have liked but he seemed to get the message. She made it two steps before his warm calloused hand reached out to grab her elbow, pulling her back into his strong arms.

He pushed her against the wall of a conveniently placed dark hallway in the club, his mouth moving hungrily over hers, the intoxicating taste of whiskey ingrained on his tongue as he slipped it past her willing lips.

"This is such a bad idea" she gasped, as his lips traveled to bite at the sensitive spot on her neck, making her back arch involuntarily towards him. He ignored her, cutting her off with another searing kiss, a hand cupping her cheek so he could angle her mouth to kiss her again, his hips grinding into her core relentlessly. His hands moved over her thighs, locking over the bend of her knees to pull them around his hips, she compiled, her resolve weakening into a pile of dust.

His hand slipped lower, past her hip, along the glittery hem of her dress. His hips now holding her in place, his hand was free to roam the soft span of her thighs.

"hmmm" he hummed against the creamy, sweet skin of her neck as his thumb slipped under the band of her lacy underwear. "So sweet" he whispered, dragging his lips across her jaw, from the soft curve of her chin to her temple. Oliver tightened the grip he had over her hip, letting his lost hand find its way back in between her legs, laying his palm solidly against her core and marveling at the breathy moan that puffed through her darkly painted lips.

"So, so sweet" he whispered and groaned when her hands found the buckle of his belt "but you're so bad for business"

she smirked, leaning forward plant her lips roughly on his, her fingers bunching the material of his shirt to pull him impossibly closer.

"you're not exactly protocol yourself"


	5. Remember Me

How bout that season 3 trailer?! (any mistakes made are due to my emotional turmoil due to all the Olicity spoilers, please forgive me)

* * *

:Remember Me:

It was an everyday occurrence since he could remember, without fail he saw her through the streaked window of his favorite little cafe in that cozy corner of Starling city. Sometimes she walked faster than other days on her color coordinated heels, and he always wondered where exactly she was rushing off to. Her ponytail swung enthusiastically behind her, the golden tones catching in the sunlight of the early was a light that radiated off her in incandescent beams, so bright among the sea of black and white that crowded the sidewalks of the city, her colorful skirts and blouses glowing stars in a sky of dull gray.

He saw lots of people walking about the street in that booth he sat in every morning, but none like her, not remotely. She walked with a purpose, her shorts steps hitting the pavement with direction and function, with an assurance he could only ever hope for. He sat there, sipping his black coffee, tracing the smears on the glass with uninterested eyes until a ray of sunshine caught his eye, and it always did, at 8 A.M sharp.

She would occasionally be carrying a travel mug that somehow matched perfectly with her dress of the day, her bright nails wrapped around the cup, sipping on it while she walked through the brimful walkways. Other days it was a tablet that occupied her attention, walking slower so to not trip over herself, bumping into the occasional stranger and apologizing with a genuine smile that he was sure astounded the receiver, like looking directly into the sun might. Even on those days, that she carried a gadget in her coffeeless palm, she never went in, the soft hum of the bell that hung loosely over the door never announced_ her_ presence, always someone else, someone he didn't know.

He watched her, that he was sure of, everyday, a smile for a smile every morning, a glance that whispered so many things he couldn't quite grasp, that he felt so close to him, to where his heart beat hurriedly in his chest, yet so, so very far from his reach. The smile she sent him through the window of that cafe was mesmerizing, intriguing, so fucking _intriguing_ it made his bones ache. Every aspect of that blindingly bright woman that smiled at him every morning was intriguing, he spent his nights awake, staring at his cracked ceiling, frustrated by his inability to just _know_, to just be sure, to see himself somewhere, anywhere but there, alone.

Every minute of every day was spent pondering the wishful note on the unconditional spread of the glossy sparkle of her lips. Some nights he got drunk on whiskey and black coffee, relentlessly rolling the longing quality of her gaze around in his flashing thoughts until he was dizzy, blotches of pinks and yellows spotting on the back of his eyelids, a kaleidoscope of colors in his dark, confused head.

Yeah, you could call her enthralling, and you'd even fall short. You could call him insane too, and you's also be right, because he saw things, saw _her,_ pictures too vivid to be fantasies, too real to be fragments of his broken imagination. Of her flaxen tresses sprawled over pale sheets, of the tinge of bright pink that spread a trail over her cheeks and down her neck, of her mouth, so sweet he could feel the candied jolt on his tongue. The memories flooded through him faithfully, every morning more, with a force that knocked the air right out of his lungs.

Hypnotized, his eyes, they searched her out, every breath he took was punctuated by his seeking eyes, they looked in the colorless crowds he frequented aimlessly, unwilling to part with her brightness until she was gone, rooted in that tattered cafe until she disappeared around the corner of an old brick building. Sometimes he remembered her laughter in the breeze that stung at his cheeks, that fluttered the lapels of his coat as he walked alone, lonely through destinationless paths. And then other times, all he saw was pain, a feeling of impotence strong and steady, that etched painfully at his tired heart.

He always thought of her then, of the soft sway of her tied up hair, of her bright lips, of the glossy frames of her glasses, and somehow, through his pain, he saw light, he saw hope. Those were the nights when he felt more found than he did lost, where the dreams, the memories flowed freely, where he saw her laughing up at him, painting over endless coats of vivid nail polish

and he couldn't quite shake the idea, the thought that maybe she was his happiness, the happy story he'd searched for in his memories for what seemed like an eternity.

He saw it then, the dam broke and he saw everything, in absolute and complete color, in a way he never imagined possible. He saw _everything_, the way she pouted when there was no more chocolate chip mint ice cream left in the freezer, how she curled her lip when she concentrated enough on the tech stuff that he could never quite understand, no matter how many times she explained it. He saw how bright her gaze was when she saw him,_ just him_ walking up towards her, and in that instant it was all he'd been waiting for- and he'd waited, my god he'd waited, and he'd wait a million years more if it meant feeling the utter and the all consuming love that made his heart falter in his chest.

And he'd be damned if he hadn't surrendered himself completely, a dangerous feat, he realized, for a guy as missing as he was. But he was tired, tired of feeling stuck, of holding back for the sake of something as useless as safety, as sanity.

But then he knew, every kiss that flew behind his closed eyelids a turning page in his dismal novel, every touch that came back to him a sweet phrase, every brush of her lips a promise. He knew, he knew, _he knew_, she was his, she was what he lived for, why he existed.

She was his _Felicity_

He was aware of just how different the look in his eye was the next morning, he could only imagine how see-through the stretch of his lips was that time around, probably as transparent as the window that stood between them.

She didn't walk past him that morning, didn't rush off to the unknown place behind the crumbling brick building. Instead, he watched her eyes brighten with understanding, with something else that filled him with hope, with longing. He stared as she took careful steps towards the polished glass, her blue eyes never straying from his, her tentative smile unwavering on her lips, a bright fuchsia color that morning.

He saw something in her eyes, the fragile timbre of them only making him that much stronger.

He stood to place his hand right over where hers would be on the other side of the window, the lines of her palm aligning with his. He could feel her warmth seep through the glass, could hear the soft sigh even confined behind the teasing barrier. Her forehead landed tenderly on the cool surface, a glistening tear carving its path past her flushed cheeks, and when he placed his forehead there too, he knew he was home.

"You remember" It was a whisper, a plea, a prayer said through trembling lips.

_He remembered_


	6. Save Me

Short Paramedic AU! Come say Hi on TUMBLR !

**~**Save Me**~**

"Um. Excuse me?" the small voice came from behind him, the words almost lost among the sirens and frantic voices. He turned around to see a young woman staring back up at him, her blue eyes shining under the thick frames of her glasses, her face illuminated by the glare of blue and red lights.

She was wrapped up in an emergency blanket, her brightly painted nails clutching the ends of the wool material, blonde hair straying out of her ponytail as she smiled shyly.

"I- I don't know if you remember me" she chuckled, a strained sound that he guessed wasn't suppose to get through her lips

"I mean we weren't exactly officially introduced or anything, so it's okay if you don't. You probably pull hundreds of women out from under rubble and singlehandedly save their lives." she paused, a soft blush blooming over her cheeks

"Well, obviously, you do that because it's well, your job to…do…_that_" she finished her ramble by rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly, causing the blanket to fall out of place, revealing a brightly patterned blouse that he found oddly fitting, even with only minutes of knowing her.

"Wow, I'm so sorry, you probably have super important things to do and I'm just here babbling and wasting your time and this has been very awkward, especially since you haven't said a word so I'm going to stop now and just" she motioned towards the parking lot of the building that had burst into flames and had yet to be extinguished. "go.. I'm going to go"

He chuckled without really meaning to

"Felicity, right?" he asked, remembering how the blonde had dreamily thought she was in heaven and had mistaken him for her saving angel. Once she was safely in his arms, She'd mumbled that she'd only ever once tried pot and that it wasn't even on purpose and that she might have maybe once hacked into her professors system to change her grade from an A- to an A but that it was hardly lying since her English professor wouldn't recognize a kick ass haiku if it punched him square in the face. She had pouted then, wondering out loud if God would be cool enough to overlook that, did god like haikus?

and even among the soot and smoke, he had smiled

She'd been at the entrance when the building had crumbled and had luckily suffered little but a dazed mind and a loose mouth.

"Yeah" she said, her surprise evident behind the glossy lenses of her glasses. "How do you know that?"

"I had to ask you, remember? to check for concussions. You know, full name, age, address, city of origin" he shrugged "Its procedure"

"Right, _procedure_" she muttered, looking away for a second before those blue eyes reattached to his, connected in a surprisingly meaningful look.

"I just wanted to thank you" she whispered, her eyes searching his, her lips curving in a tender smile "I know it's your job, but still….._thank you_"

His hand reached out, his grasp searching to provide her with some sort of comfort. He settled for placing it over where her fingers were still clutching at the warm fabric.

"Hey" he whispered, lips closer to hers than he remembered them being, noticing how breathtakingly beautiful she was, even covered in dust, ponytail tattered and undone.

"you're welcome"

she smiled, turning her palm upwards to reciprocate his touch. Her hand was soft against his palm, the feel of her skin on his almost a caress that compelled a surge of warmth to wash over his chest.

_Felicity_, he found himself repeating in his head, _Felicity, Felicity_, so it echoed sweetly in his thoughts as he stared down at her luminous blue eyes

_what a lovely name_


	7. It's her smile (That I love)

Two little things I wrote for the OHP on Tumblr! Hope you ENJOY (excuse Typos)

**Rain (don't) go away!**

The first time Oliver walks Felicity to her car, it's raining,obviously. Because Oliver Queen doesn't look attractive enough without beads of glistening water running down his perfectly chiseled jaw, disappearing under the collar of his shirt, moistening the white fabric so it clings to the hard planes of his chest, leaving little to the imagination under his open coat….it's unfair really.

She tells him that it's really not necessary, but when he insists she tries to cover some of his massive frame with her tiny printed umbrella, effectively soaking them both.

Her wet strands of blonde hair are sticking to her neck, droplets of water running past her eyelashes and down her cheeks with every quick blink of her eye. Her dress is swamped and her heels ankle deep in puddles

And Oliver laughs

Suddenly, without precedent, a deep laugh rumbles from his chest and he's laughing like she's never seen him do before. She glances at him and through the blur of the falling rain she sees his head tilted up towards the restless sky.  
There's a brilliant smile spread over his face, the harsh worry lines are gone from his features and she finds herself grinning up at him, thinking that he's never looked quite so carefree.

He laughed again and then she's laughing too, closing her umbrella in a swift motion and grabbing ahold of his hand in another, her soft palm warm in his grasp.

"It's raining" he breathes out, after a sudden pull of his arm brings her flush against his chest

And that time when she laughs, he's sure it's his favorite sound

* * *

**No music? No problem**

Their first dance turns out to be sooner rather than later. Oliver would be lying if he said that he hadn't thought of what it would feel like to dance with her since watching her sway back and forth in that bright pink dress with Barry Allen, if she would look up at him with a smile as brilliant as she had Barry. Sometimes he dreamt of it, her soft hand dwarfed by his larger one, her bright nails stark against his black suit. It startled him at first, the luminescent value of the scene that flashed before him, how every dream that ended with her in his arms was so filled with light, so pure.

A purity that he hadn't found in himself for a while. He closed his eyes and leaned back in her chair, smiling in a way that made him feel so much closer to her.

The foundry was quiet until he heard the familiar sound of her high heeled shoes on the metal steps. His eyes remained closed until he could feel her presence in the space, feel the wrinkle of her nose at seeing him in her spot.

"Oliver, I thought we'd established a boundary line. You know, you stay there with your practice dummies and stick things, and I stay there, with my babies, who are very sensitive with strangers, I might add."  
His eyes open to find her looking down at him expectantly, drawing an imaginary line with the tip of her strappy shoe.

She was so bright, so _her_ and as the words were flying from her lips, he realized that he didn't want any more boundaries between them, no lines, no barriers. Just him and just her.

he glanced up at her with a gentle sparkle in his eye, a look that had only recently, with the crime rate so low, had began making an appearance on his usually creased features. This glint in his eye, he noticed, was usually reserved for a certain blonde sidekick that somehow, as cheesy as it sounds, managed to hack her way into his battered heart.

he stood up, abruptly enough for her to take a surprised step backwards, faltering only slightly on her tall shoes. He extended a hand towards her, a smile sewn loosely on his lips

"Dance with me" he said, marveling at the surprised look that flashed past her pretty blue eyes, deciding that it was about time he surprised her instead of the other way around

"but there's no music" she reasoned, but he could see the soft smirk beginning to pull at the corner of her bright lips

she accepted his hand in the end and he used it to leverage her body impossibly close, feeling the music of her laughter fill the air around them, the soft melody of her gaze render him speechless. They swayed back and forth in the quiet foundry, letting their racing hearts do all the singing.


	8. Inconspicuous

_Tumblr Prompt= voyeur Oliver _

_**Inconspicuous**_

When it happened, she was wet.

They both were, mother nature deciding that while they waited outside the Gotham city airport for a cab was the best time to send a downpour of angry water that soaked right through their clothing, chilling over Oliver's skin, drawing a sky-bound smile from Felicity, the drops of precipitation falling over her dark lashes like sparkling jewels, her grin more brilliant than any precious stone he'd ever laid eyes on, and considering who exactly he was, spanish antiquities and all, that was saying something.

She'd informed him through small smiles that it didn't rain much where she was from when he'd asked.

He couldn't help but think that rain suited her somehow, the lustrous beads of rainwater carving their glistening paths down her cheeks, fogging up the lenses of her glasses, running down her neck and scurrying past her collarbone.

They danced past the brink of her cream colored blouse, making the material cling to her body like a second skin that had Oliver silently mesmerized, watching gingerly as each drop of water grew bolder, their path _longer_, _clearer_ through the nearly transparent fabric.

Watching Felicity was second nature to him, an instinct, a tendency as ingrained within him as his reflexes were, it just happened, just like a nervous tick might, naturally,like blinking, as necessary as breathing. So maybe he shouldn't have been so surprised that the sight of Felicity, through the crack of her door that had been left slightly ajar in their adjoined hotel room, would be as enticing as it was.

The view was arresting, her golden tussles of hair falling loosely over her shoulders, the sopping blouse caressing the slope of her arms, kissing its way down the limbs before she let it fall into a shapeless puddle at her bare feet.

He was grounded at his inconspicuous spot behind the skewed door, helpless to the sight of her skirt grazing the smooth expanse of the back of her thighs, down her delicate calves, down further onto the hardwood floor, exposing the taut muscles of her behind, a barely there scrap of material stretched tightly over her shapely ass.

His sanity faltered, watching the weaved pattern mold exquisitely over her faultless behind, testing his self control

He saw the shutter that shook her body once her damp skin was licked by the cool air that swirled past the vents, pulled into her unforgiving gravity, falling over her lace covered breasts in teasing puffs, enticing a series of ambrosial tremors to sway her small frame.

She seemed to take no mind to her surroundings, to the familiar blue eyes that followed her every movement, hypnotized by the small sighs her pink lips delivered. He licked his own, feeling them suddenly dry, parting them in something a lot like lust when she did the same, her bubblegum tongue darting out to sweep over the seam of her mouth, so in tune with him that it physically hurt.

he gasped as he felt every drop of his heated blood rush below his rapidly beating heart, the fist sized organ serving solely to wholeheartedly circulate the crimson liquid efficiently into his hard member, every self imposed touch _further_, every tremble of her lips_ more_.

The wrongness behind his voyeurism never registered in his white lace dazed mind. There was something about Felicity Smoak that begged his eyes to stay, imploring they not leave the ridges of her spine, the crevices of her clavicle, the fissures of her lower back, least they miss the fascinating way her body moved when she thought no one was watching.


End file.
